Page 74 of The Scars I Bare
Oh, boy, here it came.
“I mean, I’m a good mom, right?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And I deserve to know things.”
“Yes, Mama,” I said, rubbing her shoulders as the drama began.
We’d already had this conversation at least twice. This would make it the third.
“Finding out your son has a girlfriend from the owner of the coffee shop? That’s just not right, Dean. And then to not be able to invite her over for supper?”
I suppressed the eye roll that was forming. “I know. But it just sort of happened. And I don’t know that we’re calling each other girlfriend and boyfriend yet.”
She made a disgruntled sound in the back of her throat, turning back to the stove to tend to her onions. “Well, in my time, if you were spotted kissing in public, that meant something.”
I smiled, running my hand through my hair as I remembered that day.
We’d been out for a walk with Lizzie, enjoying some cooler temperatures, and happened to stop by the coffee shop. I thought I was being discreet, but I forgot where I was.
In a small town like Ocracoke, there was no such thing as discreet when you were out in public.
By noon the next day, the whole town had known we were “an item,” as my mother would say. And, although we hadn’t put a label on what was happening between us, hearing my mom call Cora my girlfriend had me grinning like a damn fool.
But I’d been doing that a lot lately.
It had been two weeks since our first date, and every moment since, I felt like I was flying.
“It does mean something,” I said finally. “It means a lot, Mama.”
I could see a small smirk forming as she turned to grab something from the fridge. “Well, good. ’Cause a single mom like that deserves a good boy like you.”
“She’s been through a lot,” I said, taking the place to the right of her. It used to be my spot, where I’d always be on Sunday afternoon. Mama’s little helper—or big helper when I had gotten taller than her. But then I had come home from the hospital, and Sunday night dinners had kind of fallen apart.
My brother had gotten too busy, and I’d become too self-involved in my misery to help her.
“What if I can’t be the man she needs me to be?” I asked, picking up the knife she’d been using to chop the vegetables.
I held it over some of the leftover garlic cloves and tried to chop one. The garlic clove went flying across the room. My mother smiled, taking my hand and steadying it, helping me go through the motions.
“Then, you learn,” she said. “And you become the man she needs. Life is all about growth, Dean. Growing as a person, a couple.” She paused. “A family.”
“I’ve failed our family these last few years,” I said, placing the knife down as I turned to face her.
“No,” she replied. “We’ve failed each other. And, now, perhaps it’s time we look at fixing that.” She gave me a little wink as she reached up to fix my hair, something she’d been doing since I was a kid. “Growth,” she pressed. “But, first, you have a cowboy hat to buy.”
I laughed. “Actually, I’ve been told this family is more into lightsabers.”
“Lightsabers, huh? Well, it’s a good thing I’m a hoarder,” my mom said before grabbing my hand. “I might have just the thing.”
At least I had time to shut off the stove before she hauled me toward the front door.
“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Cora said, reaching for my hand as we waited in line at the docks the night before our flight.
I swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”
The warmth of her fingers wove with mine. “You know, someone once told me that the wordfineis really just what people say when they’re actually not. Or something like that. I could be paraphrasing.”
